Because sometimes things just aren't meant to be
by Rhodanthe
Summary: After their first missions as spies, Algy throws himself into life while Biggles is vulnerable and ripe for falling in love. Mild sexual reference.
1. Chapter 1

**August 1918.**

For four long years young men had paid the ultimate price, their lives sacrificed forever in the mud and blood of the trenches. Others had chosen to soar heavenward in flimsy machines, only to suffer an Icarian fate and plunge to the ground in a welter of wood and torn fabric.

At a time when the average survival rate of a fighter pilot had been three weeks, Squadron 266 had had bucked the trend and were as hardened a bunch of fighters as could be found in France. In particular, two of its pilots stood out- James Bigglesworth, and his cousin and closest friend Algernon Lacey. Their superb flying skills, combined with a sixth sense, fearlessness and deadly accuracy had proved a fatal combination to their airborne opponents.

This inseparable pair had developed a reputation not only within their own squadron and the RFC as a whole, but along the entire Western Front, as being a formidable team. If you flew with either of them on offensive patrol chances were good you would come back alive.

Four months earlier, Biggles and Algy were due to have leave when Algy had come down with a bad cold. It had been difficult to persuade Biggles to take leave and go home without him, but a threat of a posting to Home Establishment had finally done the trick.

Biggles first task after leaving his kit in a small London hotel had been to visit his tailor. His tunic had been left with this overworked gentleman to furbish up and to try to remove the mud and castor oil stains to make it more suitable for fashionable London. It would be ready later in the day, he promised. Never one for remaining indoors, Biggles had elected to purchase a ready-made suit and see if his father was at home. On arriving there, he learned that not only his brother, but also his father, were fighting somewhere in France and the townhouse was closed for the duration. Declining the offer of a cup of tea from his old housekeeper, he set off to explore London. After an hour or so, he became decidedly hungry and made up his mind to have something to eat before picking up his tunic. He hesitated between two different restaurants. Here fate played her hand. If he had chosen a different place to eat, the story related in 'Biggles Flies East' would never have happened and life might have gone quite differently for Biggles.

Upon returned to Squadron 266 after their brief posting to Palestine, Biggles was somewhat restive. An upright and honest young man, he had hated playing a double game. His nomination for a DSO had come as quite a surprise to all but Algy and he rather wished he had been able to 'come clean' and answer his squadron's questions truthfully about how he got it.

Physically, Algy and Biggles had changed very little, just a slight sunburn to the skin. Various members of the squadron had ribbed them about their 'holiday tan', and both men had responded characteristically.

Biggles smoked more and his temper had become more unpredictable. Algy threw himself into squadron life again and was determined to live for the moment, often dragging a frequently brittle Biggles with him.

Only Major Mullien, their Commanding Officer, noticed the deeper more profound changes. Both boys had become men and their bond of friendship was stronger.

The afternoon weather was foul for flying; Mahoney proposed taking the tender into town and having some fun. It was a large and noisy group that had accompanied him, Biggles and Algy included. After a few drinks, they had joined up with half the officers in front of a small house. At six o'clock, a red light over the door was switched on and the men surged forward with a roar of approval.

Biggles and Harcourt hung back.

"Eight Shillings , Mahoney said," Algy, counted out his money. "I won't be able to come here very often and continue to pay my mess bills."

"What about…catching something?"

"Why do you think we're issued with medical kits for? To put on our guns? We'll be thoroughly looked over beforehand and here the girls all use French Letters. I've no wish to spend time in hospital unless I absolutely have to. Come on, Biggles. I don't want to die wondering," Algy said with a grin. Still Biggles held back.

"Neither do I, Algy, but not like this. Two minutes and it's over, next fellow, please." Algy looked at him for a long moment and shrugged. "Life's not like a Sabatini novel, Biggles."

Biggles met his gaze steadily and replied softly, "I know."

"Meet you back at the pub then. Save me a drink," Algy flung over his shoulder as he dashed into the building, elbowing Mahoney out of the way. Biggles and Harcourt were left outside. Biggles' eyes followed him sadly for a moment before he turned away and lit a cigarette.

Biggles sat reflectively over his rather weak beer and watched the cabaret while he waited for his egg and chips. The _estaminet_ was full of women, many of whom were highly painted. Their thin clothes displayed their voluptuous figures and they eyed the young aviators avariciously. Neither Biggles nor Harcourt paid them any attention. Biggles wondered if one day he would meet the right girl. He butted out his half-smoked cigarette somewhat savagely. What chance did a nice girl have amongst these painted trollops?

Algy came back a short while later. "Was it worth it?" Biggles asked quietly. Algy grinned and made a ribald gesture in response. "I elbowed a couple of married officer's out of the way, and did you see I beat Mahoney? That in itself was worth it." He sat down nonchalantly, snagged a chip from Biggles plate and pulling the drink Biggles had saved toward him, took a large gulp.

"Do you ever think about finding the right girl and falling in love?" Harcourt asked quietly.

"You've been reading too many romances, Harcourt" Algy said with a trace of impatience. "I wasn't looking for someone to hold hands and read poetry with in the soft moonlight. It's time you realized that sort of thing doesn't happen in real life. You're safer in that house down the road than that lot are over there," Algy indicated a group of recently arrived soldiers, clustered around the group of harridans Biggles had noticed earlier.

Harcourt remained unconvinced. "If we expect our future wives to keep themselves tidy, then I feel we should too," his jaw set stubbornly and he clutched his glass harder. "I'd be upset if my Sarah…" he tossed back his drink, slammed the glass down and glared at Algy.

"Well. the odds are that some of us won't make it back home," Algy retorted with some heat.

"Easy on the oars, you two," Biggles downed his own drink wearily and gestured to the barmaid to bring them another.

A week or so later Major Mullen had sent Biggles to pick up a new Camel from the aircraft park. The thrill of trying a brand new machine brought an involuntary smile to his face for the first time in months and Biggles found he was enjoying himself as he put the aircraft through its paces. During the return flight, his magneto had malfunctioned and he was forced to land in a meadow not far from Maranique. He sat in his temperamental aircraft and looked at the idyllic rural scene surrounding him. It was a perfect day and he could almost have imagined himself back home in pre-war England. For the first time in many months, a sense of peace washed over him. He smiled appreciatively and lit a cigarette, smoking it slowly, wishing to prolong the moment. He remembered seeing a red roof through the trees and having finished his cigarette, his sense of duty recalled him. It was time to find someone to help him. He was a fair way from his aerodrome. He sighed and set off towards the house. He paused in the orchard, uncertain which way to go when a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes spoke to him.

Biggles immediately fell head over heels in love.


	2. Chapter 2

Having arranged by telephone to have a party of ack-emmas sent out to repair the Camel, Biggles settled down to enjoy the hospitality the young woman, Marie Janis, offered him.

Over more than one small glass of good quality eau de vie, Biggles became quite animated and presently Marie was asking questions about his aircraft. "You must be very brave to fly one of those, Monsieur"

Biggles looked embarrassed. "Not really Miss Janis, it's swank."

"Swank?"

"Er, bucking or boasting, that sort of thing, but flying is rather thrilling, and I think I'm rather good at it," he said with a touch of modesty.

Marie smiled. "You must be. Another glass?"

"Please."

Marie poured him another glass of eau de vie. Her fingers brushed lightly against Biggles' and he felt something like an electric shock. It caused him to nearly drop the glass. "Gosh! Perhaps the next drink I have had better be lemonade. I must be getting rather tight." Marie laughed. "Not yet, Monsieur. I think perhaps you have a good head."

Smyth, having assured himself everything was ready and the aircraft was switched off, climbed down from the cockpit and waited. Soon he heard voices coming towards him and saw Biggles walking slowly, accompanied by a young woman in blue.

Smyth moved beside the propeller in preparation to start the Camel and was astonished to see Biggles bend over the young woman's hand and kiss it before striding through the gate to where he was waiting.

"All's well, Flight?" Biggles asked Smyth crisply.

"Yes sir. A simple problem. Nothing I couldn't fix," he replied stolidly.

Biggles laughed. "Well, let's get back to quarters. Fancy a lift back on the wing?"

"I'll take the tender, if you don't mind, sir."

Biggles sang. "'You take the low road and I take the high road and I'll be in Scotland afore ye'."

Smyth looked at him in silence. "Don't say much, do you Smyth?"

Smyth gave a sudden grin. He spun the propeller twice to clear any build-up of fuel. "Ignition on, sir."

"Contact."

"Contact,'' Smyth spun the propeller and quickly stepped back. The Rotary engine caught, the entire engine spinning with the propeller. Biggles waited until the engine had warmed before signalling to Smyth who pulled the chocks away. He taxied quickly over the meadow and took off. Circling briefly to gain a little height, he waved before turning in the direction of the squadron. Smyth looked around to where he had seen the girl in blue. She was gone.

"Well?" Marie's manservant Antoine asked on her return indoors.

"A nice young man, Antoine." Marie's eyes strayed to the place on her hand where Biggles lips had touched.

"You might make use of that young man sometime. He was clearly attracted to you. I wonder how much he knows?"

"I doubt if I'll ever see him again," Marie said with a touch of wistfulness and poured herself another glass of eau de vie.

Antoine looked at her thoughtfully. "You need to get that information back. We are at war. You have a job to do."

"How could I forget?" she said rather bitterly, tossing back the drink

Marie sat in the orchard on a stone seat, removing the latest message from the leg of a carrier pigeon. The sound of a low flying aircraft 'blipping' its engine penetrated her thoughts. She lifted her head from the task and listened as the engine died. Was it possible?...

A few minutes later, she heard someone whistling and quickly tucked the routine orders inside the bodice of her dress. She stood up and shooed the pigeon that had brought it away. She sat back down just as Biggles came into view "Good morning, Miss Janis," he said with a smile.

Marie's face dimpled as she smiled. "Monsieur Bigglesworth. I hope you have not had an accident to your mag. again?"

Biggles grinned. "Not this time! I just dropped by to thank you for your hospitality the other day and to see how you are."

"I am very well, thank you. May I offer you some café au lait or English the'?"

Biggles requested tea and followed Marie inside. They sat down and made small talk until Antoine brought tea for them both, along with some fruit and cheese. If asked what he had eaten, Biggles would have been hard pressed to remember.

Biggles found he and Marie had many things in common- both had similar tastes in music and reading.

Marie had not read one of Biggles' favourites- Kipling reminded Biggles of his early life in India and he entertained Marie with stories of these. He began to talk about his father; Marie volunteered the information that her father had been caught up north when the war broke out and since her mother's death, she had only the servants to look after her. One by one the men had left to fight. Biggles was horrified that such a gently bred young girl should have no one to protect her.

"But I have Antoine and Lucille," Marie replied placidly. "Lucille looks after me like _maman_."

"But it's not right. Don't you have any family?"

"Mama quarrelled with her family when she married Papa. They did not wish her to marry him. I have no other family left in France."

Biggles got up and paced the room restlessly.

"Why should you care, monsieur? I am just another French girl."

"I- I don't know. I just do," Biggles looked at his watch. Where had the time gone? "Crikey- I'm going to be late. May I come and see you again?" Marie looked demurely at him from under her eyelashes and smiled.

"Please do _mon capitaine_. Would you care to join me for supper tomorrow evening?"

"Would I?" Biggles eyes shone.

"Ah, I will take that as yes?" Marie laughed. "Now Antoine will help you start your aircraft."

"Until tomorrow then, Miss Janis."

"You may call me Marie."


	3. Chapter 3

Antoine cleared the supper plates away, while listening to their conversation. As he left, he gave Marie a hard look, which she returned steadily. Biggles gazing at Marie caught the exchange with some surprise. As they sat and talked, Biggles sipped his wine appreciatively, enjoying both it and the company of the lovely girl. The candles burned steadily lower as the evening progressed. "It doesn't get better than this," he thought pleasurably, lifting his glass to his lips.

"Tell me my Biggles," Marie asked at that moment, "Have you ever lain with a woman?"

Biggles choked on his wine. "Uh, ah, I'm not sure I know what you mean, Marie," he stammered, taken aback by her frankness. She waited a few moments, a little smile on her lips, for him to regain some composure. "I think you do," she stood up, removed the half-full glass from his slack fingers and placed it on the table. Taking a step or two closer, she leaned forward and kissed him gently. Biggles responded eagerly, immediately betraying his inexperience.

The curtains drew back with a rattle. "It's a beautiful day, young sirs. Perfect flying weather, in fact," the batman Algy shared with Biggles and Harcourt said cheerfully. "Here's your tea and hot water."

Algy groaned. "It's too early to be cheerful, Jones. I'd like the morning better if it started later," he rolled over and poked Biggles in the ribs. "What say you, old chap?"

"Go away," Biggles muffled voice came from under the blankets.

"You were out late last night," Algy commented to Biggles. "Where'd you go?"

Biggles sat up and ran his hand through his hair. "Oh, just out."

"'Just out'," Algy mimicked. "Did you hear that, Harcourt? He bags the tender when the rest of us want it to go into Amiens, then he comes in late, trips over our boots, making enough noise to alert every Boche within a ten-mile radius and he won't tell us where he's been. Must be something very hush-hush. Oh, what it is to be Raymond's blue-eyed boy!"

Biggles smiled sleepily and got up. He pulled his pyjama jacket off and turned to wash himself in the warm water the batman had brought.

Algy glanced over towards him and caught sight of a bruise. "Where did you get that bruise?" he asked, suddenly serious.

"I must've knocked myself on something," Biggles said quietly and pulled on his shirt. Algy leapt across the room, pulled down Biggles' collarless shirt, and looked closely at the base of Biggles' neck. Biggles' jerked back sharply out of Algy's grasp, knocking the washing basin onto the floor. "That's a bite mark," said Algy accusingly. Biggles flushed and turned to pick up the empty bowl.

"Are you going to tell me how you got it? Algy demanded. Biggles placed the bowl back on the table and finished dressing. "No," he said curtly before leaving the room they shared. Algy stared at his retreating figure in some astonishment.

"Not a word to anyone, Harcourt," Algy finished dressing quickly before following Biggles.

Over breakfast, he continued to watch Biggles, who buttered his bread on both sides in an absent-minded manner.

They both ignored the horseplay that was a normal part of breakfast. Harcourt watched them both from the next table. Algy motioned for him to go ahead and then neatly cut Biggles out on the way to the hangers. "What's her name?" he asked quietly.

"What makes you think there's a girl?" Biggles looked quickly around to make sure no one else was within earshot.

"Well I know you well enough by now," Algy chuckled.

Biggles smiled. "Her name is Marie," he replied softly.

"How did you meet her?"

Biggles thought for a moment and decided there was no harm in telling Algy. "You remember how my new camel packed up a few days ago? I landed in the meadow near the farmhouse where she lives. She's French and has a fascinating accent. She went to school in England, so that might account for it. Marie's like- like those spirits of the air they had in Greek mythology."

"My word you have got it badly, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," Biggles said defensively. "Can't a fellow show admiration and friendship for a girl without it being taken the wrong way?"

"Not with that on your neck, old chap," Algy grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

Marie released the latest pigeon, now denuded of its coded message. Working quickly, she decoded then read the message with increasing horror. German Intelligence Headquarters on Wilhelmstrasse was becoming impatient. Why had the information requested in their last message not been sent to local headquarters at Lille immediately? The letter warned her of the consequences if she failed in her duty. They had been keeping a close watch on her family. Did she wish to see her father alive again?

The information had only come into her hands that morning, while she was in the village, and an unexpected roadblock had prevented her from getting back to the farmhouse as quickly as she had wished. She prepared a coded message and copied the map of squadron 266 that had been given to her. Satisfied that no trace remained of the invisible map she went to where her own pigeon had been hidden.

A pile of feathers and a battered basket were all that was left. A rustle in a nearby bush led Marie to a large tabby cat, with a self-satisfied smirk on its face. Marie stared in dismay at the tattered remains of the grey bird in its mouth.

She shook herself. Was there another way to get the message back to Lille?

Antoine's words echoed in her mind- 'You might make use of that young man'. The thought revolted her. If Biggles was caught by either side he would be shot as a spy….. "A brave man will die either way," she thought desperately, a tear rolling down her face. "But what choice do I have?"

Marie waited anxiously in the moonlit orchard for Biggles. The occasional drone of a night fighting aircraft taking off in the distance broke the silence. Searchlight beams probed the sky, trying to locate the sound. The letter of the night, flashed in Morse, demanded an answer. Red streaks of light, fading to green, shot across the sky, fired by a pilot or more likely an observer in the aircraft in response to the coded signal. In the valleys, a mist was gathering.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Biggles voice asked behind Marie. She turned, her face lighting up, glad to see him alive at the end of the day.

"Especially knowing that you are not taking part in it." She held out her hand and drew Biggles towards the seat.

"The boys dropped me off on their way to Amiens. I'll have to walk back before the mist comes up much further," he said as he sat down and put his arm around Marie.

Despite it being summer, the night had a distinct damp chill to it. Marie nestled close to Biggles, enjoying the warmth of his body and his arm around her. She felt him move slightly before he cleared his throat and asked if she ever heard from her father. Marie's heart stood still for a moment.

Was this her chance?

The thought of what might happen to her father if she failed brought tears to her eyes. Biggles lifted her chin slightly and tightened his arm compassionately.

When Marie told him how close her father was he jolted suddenly with the sudden realisation he might be able to drop a letter over in his Camel. He thought for a moment, Marie begging him to tell her what his idea was. She leapt up with shining eyes in order to hide both her relief and excitement. Biggles tried to pull her back down. Marie, anxious to finalise the task, resisted briefly. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. Duty gave way. This time Biggles broke away and stood up, huskily suggesting Marie go and write her letter.

Antoine deliberately left the door ajar after he brought the drinks Marie requested.

He stood outside and listened. Marie wrote a letter on her carefully prepared notepaper while Biggles poured their wine. After a few minutes, Marie handed the letter to Biggles with a playful smile to read. Antione saw him hand it back to her quickly with a blush and watched as Marie tied it around a paperweight. Laughingly they tied Marie's black and white scarf to it. Antoine watched Biggles shove the message hastily into the pocket of his jacket and take Marie into his arms. He smiled and shut the door quietly.

Marie would not fail in her duty.

It was after half past nine the next morning when Biggles returned to the squadron. The fog that had come on during the previous evening had turned to rain. He flung his wet coat down on his bed and went off to find a drink in the mess. Algy was there waiting for him. "Well, well, well, need I ask where you were last night? Stuck and couldn't get back my foot!" he smirked.

Biggles smiled leisurely. "It was too far to walk back once the fog came down. In the early hours it started to rain. I packed up as soon as it stopped. You know I don't like to get my feet wet."

Algy grinned. "Excuses, excuses. So when do we get to meet this paragon of loveliness that has knocked my best friend for six?"

"Do you think I'd introduce her to you?" bantered Biggles. "You'd turn on the old Lacey charm and hope she'd fall for it."

"Would I do that to you, old chap?"

"You've tried it on with just about every girl that comes anywhere near here. If they have any sense they see right through you."

"And you think she'd prefer you to me?" Algy retorted.

Biggles threw a playful punch at him. "You think yourself irresistible, don't you? I don't think, I _know_ she'd prefer me. I came in here for a little pick me up, not to get the third degree."

"Dreadfully sorry Captain Bigglesworth, sir. What will you have?" Algy laughed.

"Whisky. It's chilly out there."

"And this is supposed to be summer. Put it on my tab, will you?" he flung at the waiter as he brought Biggles' whisky over.

"Very good, sir."

"Fancy a game of cards, Biggles?" 'Wat' Tyler, the recording officer, had wandered in and been watching Biggles intently.

"Not particularly. I've got something to do as soon as I finish this drink."

"Oh, come on, what's the hurry? Anyone would think you had a date with a girl and didn't want to keep her waiting. A couple of hands can't hurt."

Algy snorted as Biggles flushed irritably.

"Oh all right. Just the one, mind you."

"Play until 11.30," Tyler insisted. "I might even give you a chance to win your money back." The spirit of challenge gleamed in Biggles' eyes. "What makes you think you'll have it all your own way?"

"That's the spirt, laddie," Tyler chuckled and clapped Biggles on the back.


	5. Chapter 5

Marie slept late the next morning, only waking when Lucille brought in her coffee. Biggles had reluctantly left not long after dawn, and she remembered his kiss goodbye. Satisfied and replete, she stretched and sat up to take the cup from Lucille. She sipped it idly, savouring the warmth. Biggles had promised to come to her again, sometime after supper. There was a small party at his squadron that he must make an appearance at, but he would be with her as soon as he could get away. Marie smiled in tender anticipation.

Putting on her wrap, her bare feet padded over to the dressing table where she sat and brushed her hair in front of the mirror, humming the tune of a popular song. An envelope, partially hidden under the bed, was reflected in the mirror and caught her eye. She went to pick it up and glanced at it casually. She froze. A sudden knife-like pain clutched at her heart.

Capt J. Bigglesworth 1245983

266 squadron

R.F.C. B.E.F.

France

She'd never asked Biggles what squadron he was from and he'd never volunteered the information. She had assumed he was stationed at one of the further squadrons.

Marie quickly dressed. She left her room, intending to go and find Biggles. She ran blindly into Antoine.

"Is there anything wrong, Fraulein?" he asked softly. "You look rather pale. Anyone would think you had learned something that upset you."

Quickly she pulled herself together. "No doubt it was the cheese I ate last night," she smiled sickly and pushing past Antione turned towards the hallway that lead to an outside door.

"Perhaps it would be wiser for you to stay inside today?" he suggested quietly as she passed. "I shall remain within earshot in case you call." She stiffened slightly and turned towards him. The eyes that met hers held little friendliness and a mocking smile played upon his lips. Marie felt a sudden loathing.

He must have known all along, she thought.

"That will not be necessary," she responded sharply.

"But it is. It would be terrible if you were to be taken unwell suddenly, particularly when you have done such a wonderful job. But come, Lucille shall bring you your breakfast."

Marie turned away.

She must give no inclination of her thoughts. She would find a way.

Marie sat at her desk, outwardly calm, but inwardly every cell in her body was desperate. True to his word, Antoine had remained within earshot all morning. The scratching of her pen sounded loud in the silence and Marie was afraid he would guess what she was doing. Lucille brought her in a meal and sat with her while Antoine went for his. Lucille was all empathy that Mademoiselle was unwell. Marie wondered for a moment if she could appeal to her as one woman to another, but decided against it. Once she had gone, Marie got up and paced the room in agitation.

Towards late afternoon, Antoine was called away and Marie slipped through the window. She ran quickly to the road and waved down a farm cart heading towards Maranique. They stopped on the road outside the squadron where the farmer agreed to wait for her. Breathlessly, she ran towards the security guards and met with the information that Biggles had left shortly after lunch and had not yet returned. He was certainly expected back well in time for dinner. Marie thrust the note into the guard's hand and returned to the farmer.

She returned just before seven o'clock in a hired taxi and waited outside on the road. The time ticked slowly by. Seven o'clock came and went. There was no sign of Biggles. Marie became panicky. What if he didn't come? She waited until close to ten minutes to eight before approaching the guards at the entrance to the aerodrome. "Captain Bigglesworth- I must see him immediately."

"He hasn't come in since you were here, miss. But he rang and said he'd be late as he had to go and see someone."

"Are you sure he can't have come back?"

"Yes miss, he has to come back by road, having bust a prop." Marie heard the distant wail of an air raid siren. The guard stiffened. "That sounds like a Hun coming." The guard listened for a moment and visibly relaxed as he picked up the Gotha bomber turning slightly to follow the road, away from the aerodrome. It weaved slightly as if searching for something.

The aircraft dived lower. A bright flash reflected against the sky, followed by another and another. A faint whine was borne on the air, intermingled with distant explosions.

"Someone's copping a pasting," the guard remarked casually. Marie swayed slightly with shock when she realised it was in the direction of the farmhouse she had been staying in. She realised there was no other building it could be. Something had gone wrong.

' _He had to go and see someone_ ,' Marie recalled the guard's words. Yes. Her. Biggles may have already been waiting at the farmhouse.

She threw herself into the car. "Quickly, towards the fire." The driver made his way steadily towards the conflagration, with Marie urging him to go faster. He stopped a short distance away when he realised the road was blocked by rather a lot of official looking people standing around watching the burning farmhouse. Marie recognised Biggles standing there, surrounded by troops with their bayonets pointed towards him. Biggles shoulders sagged and he turned away. Marie grasped Intelligence must have intercepted and substituted her message.

She had failed.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered. British Intelligence had won. Biggles would never believe she hadn't deliberately sent him to his death. He would believe she had been killed when the farmhouse was blasted from the face of the earth. "If Intelligence realise I am still alive... I must leave without seeing him again. There's one thing I can do," she thought, "write a letter telling him that I tried to save him and beg that he doesn't think too badly of me." Tears filled her eyes as she wrote in pencil on a piece of paper before kissing and sealing it. The taxi turned and went slowly back towards the aerodrome. Marie handed the note to the guard through the window of the car and her voice shook with emotion. "Please see that Captain Bigglesworth gets this as soon as he comes in."

"Right you are, miss" replied the guard. "You all right? You took off in an awful hurry before. Did you find out what it was that was bombed?"

"Just an old farmhouse," she replied bitterly, winding up the window and instructing the driver to drive away.


End file.
